


Ivory

by holyhael



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Femslash, History, Murder, Scary Stories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 05:50:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1971315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holyhael/pseuds/holyhael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Have you heard the story of the Lady of the Lake?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ivory

**Author's Note:**

> features non graphic talk of murder, corpses, and abuse

Hael takes in the breathtaking views surrounding her. The thick July marine layer weighs down and decorates the mountains and hills surrounding the lake. The only sound to be heard is the muffled calls of birds and the leisurely glide of the boat through water as Muriel steers it. Hael breathes deeply, letting the crisp air fill her lungs. A bug buzzes by her ear, and Hael watches as it disappears into the clouds in front of them.

Lake Crescent.

The water appears like a mirror for the cloudy sky, flat and eerily peaceful. Were Muriel not with her, Hael might’ve been anxious about their outing - she’s seen too many horror films with her brother Castiel. What a perfect setting for something the caliber of Stephen King.

They’re nearing the deeper waters now. Muriel, who knows everything about the Pacific Northwest’s national forests, told Hael earlier that morning that the depth of the lake is a mystery. Many groups have tried to record it, but their instruments could never go deep enough. The official lake depth, kept by the National Park Service, reads six hundred twenty four feet, a number recorded by the fisheries program at Peninsula College. Later, when power cables were being laid in the lake, instruments maxed out at one thousand feet.

Hael leans over the edge of the canoe to look into the water. Because of a lack of nitrogen, algae can’t grow, so the lake is practically crystal clear. Still, Hael can’t see the lakebed when she looks down.

“Have you heard the story of the Lady of the Lake?” Muriel chimes behind her.

Hael twists in her seat for a better view of Muriel. “No. Who is she?”

“Her real name was Hallie Illingworth,” Muriel says, “But she’s better known as the Lady of the Lake.”

“Was?” Hael echoes. “She’s dead?”

Muriel smiles at her. “That’s what makes it interesting. Sad but interesting,” Muriel says and nods.

“The poor woman,” Hael murmurs empathetically. “Is this a ghost story?”

Muriel lays her paddle across the gunwale. “Not quite, but it is really bizarre.”

Interest piqued - how could it not be; Muriel’s informational tidbits are always fascinating - Hael carefully turns completely around so she’s facing Muriel. The boat wobbles during the shuffle, but Hael manages to stay low enough that she doesn’t feel like she’s going to capsize the boat. Her casted left arm knocks hard against the boat when she settles down, and the sound bounces off the mountains. When she’s in position, now facing Muriel instead of straight ahead, Hael jerks up her chin. “What happened?”

“Nothing good,” Muriel says, and her expression turns sour as she recalls the tale of the Lady of the Lake. “She was divorced twice when she came up here, where she became a waitress.”

“When was this?”

“The 1930s,” Muriel replies. “Late 1930s, I believe.” When Hael nods, Muriel continues, “Hallie met a man at work named Monty Illingworth. They married, but he did… horrible things to her. Her coworkers said she often came to work with bruises and black eyes.”

Horror makes itself plain in Hael’s expression. “Why would she marry such a man?”

“It’s not that simple,” Muriel says. “Abusive relationships never are.”

“Oh.” A bird swoops overhead. Hael itches as far beneath her cast as she can. “What then?”

“Around Christmas time, Hallie disappeared,” says Muriel. “Her husband claimed she ran away with another man, but Hallie’s family never heard from her. The family was very close even though they were so far apart; her parents were in Kentucky.

“Shortly after, Monty moved down to California with a woman he met in this area. Supposedly they were seeing each other before Hallie and Monty got together.”

Hael’s expression scrunches with disgust. “He’s a pig.”

“Monty was quite the ladies’ man,” Muriel says, wearing a similar expression as Hael.

“What happened next?” Hael asks eagerly. As morbid as this story is turning, she’s hooked into it.. She needs to know what happened to Hallie, the Lady of the Lake.

“Nothing,” Muriel says. “Not for three years, at least. In the summer of 1940, a pair of fishermen were out on the lake when they came across her body.”

Even though Muriel said in the beginning that Hallie died, it chills Hael to hear it now. She watches Muriel, riveted, eyes wide.

“She was floating in the water. Wrapped up in blankets and hogtied.”

“Oh Heaven….”

“Her flesh,” Muriel continues, a flash in her eyes, “turned into something like Ivory Soap.”

“Soap!” Hael looks across the lake. To know these calm waters have harbored a woman’s dead body affirms Hael’s thoughts that Lake Crescent could be the backdrop of a horror film. Deceptively calm, clear water, hidden by the terrain and remoteness. It’s perfect. Turning back to Muriel, Hael demands, “How can that happen?”

“It’s called saponification,” Muriel explains. “Basically, the minerals in the lake and the fat in Hallie’s body interacted, turning her into soap. And because of the lake’s nearly-freezing temperature, she didn’t decompose, not significantly; her fingers, nose, and upper lip were gone.”

“Wow,” Hael exhales. She swallows. “How did she die? Did her husband kill her?”

“You’re getting ahead of the story,” Muriel admonishes playfully. She smirks until she remembers the story, and a frown replaces her smile.

“Hallie was severely beaten,” Muriel recalls. “It was _violent_. The coroner reported bruises around her neck and hemorrhages in her chest. She was strangled.”

Empathetic pains burst in Hael’s chest. She refrains herself from commenting and cutting in on the story. She doesn’t know if she has a voice to interrupt anyway.

“They couldn’t ID her right away because of her missing fingers and facial damage. Eventually a dentist identified her by her dental plate. After they had an identity it wasn’t hard to put the pieces together and realize Monty had killed her.”

Hael nods to herself. “Good. I’m glad that bastard didn’t get away with it.”

“Yeah, they arrested him, and he was found guilty of the second degree murder of Hallie Illingworth.”

“Only second degree?” Hael repeats angrily. “Why wasn’t he charged with first?”

Muriel rolls her eyes. “The jury didn’t believe the murder was premeditated.”

“So? He abused her! He deserves to rot in prison.”

“That’s what he was supposed to do,” Muriel says. “He was given a life sentence.”

_Good_ , Hael thinks. _I hope you were beat as badly as you beat your wife_.

No sooner has this thought passed her mind than Muriel drops, “He only served nine years before being released on parole.”

“What?” Hael demands. “Where’s the justice in that? How is that right?”

Muriel shrugs helplessly. She does not have the answers Hael seeks. Hael forces her temper to simmer down.

The lake is aloof as ever. There is no evidence of the horrors it allows to be played out. There is no evidence it cares.

Muriel picks her paddle back up and rows. The water ripples behind the oar. The bow of the boat cuts cleanly through the water.

During the course of the story, the marine layer thinned some. Now Hael can see the sun, a dull glow through the clouds above. She can stare at it for some time before her forehead begins to ache and her eyes strain.

At the closest shore, an eagle perches on a tree and shrieks. It stands there majestically for several moments before taking off. It makes way to the lake, in the opposite direction of Muriel’s and Hael’s canoe. Hael watches over Muriel’s shoulder as the bird of prey drifts over the water, talons outstretched. Its strike startles Hael with its suddenness. With a fish caught in its grasp, the eagle takes wing to the foothills

Lake Crescent.

 

**Author's Note:**

> yes, the lady of the lake is a real thing; you can read up on it [here](http://www.historylink.org/index.cfm?DisplayPage=output.cfm&file_id=8599) and [here](http://derangedlacrimes.com/?p=1933). those are the sources i used to write this story. my story may not be one hundred percent accurate, but that's why this is a work of fiction.
> 
> i first heard of the lady of the lake on a field trip to lake crescent in elementary school. it's always fascinated me in a morbid way. an [au picspam of sapphirestiel's](http://sapphirestiel.tumblr.com/post/89079398044/hael-x-muriel-au-idea-by-holyhael-muriel-is-a.) reminded me the other day of lake crescent and its story, and i just had to write this.


End file.
